


Arrival in Argentina

by AVegetarianCannibal



Series: Slice of Life [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Argentina, Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Cabin, Dogs, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 18:53:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14291217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVegetarianCannibal/pseuds/AVegetarianCannibal
Summary: Will and Hannibal have fled Cuba and begin to make a new life in Argentina, where they discover they are not alone...





	Arrival in Argentina

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shukkhy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shukkhy/gifts).



> This was originally chapter 2 of "Slice of Life," but I decided to make it part 2 of a new series tentatively called "Together." There will be new parts in the future, though not on any kind of regular schedule.

**Arrival in Argentina**

 

They rent a cabin in Argentina, on the edge of a rocky valley flanked by hardy, scrubby little trees. There’s a river that Will is looking forward to exploring when he gets a chance, and no sign of neighbors for miles. It’s entirely off the grid, using propane for cooking and hot water, and solar panels for everything else that might require power. Hannibal found it on a website that caters to tourists. He’s pretty sure nobody would expect them to do that, thus making it a safe option while they figure out where they’re going to put down roots next.

The first thing they do is check around the perimeter to make sure they know all their escape routes and have an eye on where somebody might take cover.

“Think it’ll do?” Hannibal asks. “It’s smaller than the Havana house.”

“It’s fine,” Will says. “We survived on a tiny boat together, remember?”

Suddenly, a lonesome wail echoes across the valley from some distance away. Will perks up at the familiar sound.

“Did you hear a dog?” he asks.

“Probably a shepherd dog with its flock,” Hannibal says, reaching over to rub his back. “It sounds miles off.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Will says. He shakes off his innate need to spring into action the moment he hears a dog.

* * *

There’s a lot to like about the cabin, but Will thinks his favorite thing about the new place might be the bathtub that’s plenty big enough for both of them. Not long after they get inside, he draws a bath and adds drops of lavender oil helpfully left in a small basket by the property owner.

He takes off all his clothes and goes to find Hannibal in the kitchen checking out the food situation. The auburn from their hasty disguises has mostly washed out of his hair and it looks mostly reddish blond now.

“Come take a bath with me.”

Hannibal, kneeling on the floor, looks up at him. He lets go of the cabinet door so quickly, he catches his fingers. “Ah–”

“I’ll kiss it and make it all better,” Will promises. “Do you want me to undress you?”

“You take too long,” Hannibal says, already peeling off his shirt.

Will makes a chiding sound at him. “The man who waited three years for me can’t wait three minutes for me to take off his clothes?”

“Perhaps if you hadn’t kept me waiting so long, I’d be more patient. Additionally—” Here he rolls up his shirt and playfully swats Will’s behind just as he twists around to run away. “—you took _far_ longer than ‘three minutes’ last time!”

By the time Hannibal catches up to him in the bathroom, he’s as naked as the day he was born. Will watches him get into the tub and tosses a bottle of shampoo in after him.

Hannibal holds up a finger. “You promised.”

“You really are an impatient thing, aren’t you?” Will laughs.

He takes the other end of the tub, thankful that the faucet is mounted on the side. The water laps at the edge, but there’s a drain in the middle of the floor so he’s not worried about overflow. And anyway, the mess would be worth it considering the payoff.

He reaches for Hannibal’s proffered hand and raises it to his lips. He kisses the tip of his index finger, which is barely pinkened by the cabinet door’s pinch.

“Better?”

“Perhaps a bit,” Hannibal allows.

“Well, I’d better do a more thorough job, then,” Will says, sucking the finger into his mouth up to the nearest knuckle. He lets the finger go with a little slurp, then moves on to kissing down the length of Hannibal’s upturned palm. He gives the lightest little nip of his teeth to the heel of Hannibal’s hand before glancing up to meet his gaze,

Hannibal’s eyes are glassy and dark. His voice is thick when he speaks. “Will, if you continue on this way, we may never get clean again.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Will asks, speaking the words against the inside of Hannibal’s wrist.

He only gets a hum in reply, so he makes his way with kisses up Hannibal’s forearm, using the prominent veins like Braille he reads with the sensitive tip of his tongue. He lowers one hand into the water, seeking out Hannibal’s ankle. He remembers seeing Hannibal naked for the first time, when they were both on the verge of dying, and he remembers thinking that these are the finest ankles he’s ever seen. It was an odd thing to notice, especially in the middle of almost dying, but he was struck by how slender and perfectly made they were. He pictured having them up on his shoulders some day. Now he moves Hannibal’s foot to the inside of his own thigh and gives it an encouraging nudge.

Hannibal takes the cue and toes the join of his thigh until Will spreads his legs further apart. If someone told him all that time ago, back when they first met, that someday he’d be getting his perineum massaged by Dr. Lecter’s toes, he would have laughed. Now he just moans as he sucks a kiss into the crook of Hannibal’s elbow. He thinks he could come from not much more than this. Between traveling and making living arrangements, they haven’t made love in two days.

The thought makes him laugh. He drops his forehead against Hannibal’s arm.

“Are my foot’s ministrations amusing?” Hannibal asks.

“No, no, not at all,” Will assures him. “I was just thinking how two days seems so long to me now.”

“I was just thinking that every day seems to go by in a blink,” Hannibal says.

“Not to my libido,” Will says. “Not where _you’re_ concerned.”

He tilts his head up for a kiss and gets one—achingly tender at first, with the barest sensation of Hannibal’s lips touching his own, then deeper, as if they were trying to drink one another. Being together is its own sustenance…

When they pull apart, Will whispers, “Turn around for me.”

“Ooh,” Hannibal whispers back.

“No, I’m going to wash your hair,” Will says. “Except for helping you dye it in the sink on the boat, I’ve never really gotten to wash it.”

Hannibal twists halfway around, then glances back at him. “How do you want me?”

“Every way I can get you,” Will says. “But for now, scoot down until you can lean back against me.”

When Hannibal’s head is nestled against his chest, Will reaches for the shampoo and squeezes some into his palm. It smells like lemons and something grassy or herbaceous. He smooths the pearly gel through Hannibal’s hair, massaging from his temples to the crown of his head. His hair is getting quite long, with the longest of it reaching the nape of his neck. He’s going to have to start tying it back soon to keep it neat, but Will likes it a bit wild. He likes the way it lashes against both their faces when they kiss on a windy day.

“I miss your gray,” he says.

“Silver,” Hannibal corrects him.

“Vain thing.”

Hannibal gives a soft snort. “How easy it is for he who has only 10 gray hairs himself to talk.”

“ _Silver_ ,” Will corrects in Hannibal’s own tone of voice. “And I’m up to a dozen now.”

Hannibal splashes water backwards at him.

Will yelps and laughs at the same time. Somewhere in the middle of the strangled, joyous sound that comes out of his mouth, he says, “You know I love you.”

Hannibal turns around so abruptly that the water sloshes over the edge of the tub. He stares at Will with an odd expression. His hair is standing up on foamy peaks like whipped egg whites.

“That’s the first time you’ve said that,” he says.

“That I love you?” Will asks. “No, that can’t be. Well, you knew anyway, didn’t you?”

“Love seems like such an inadequate word,” Hannibal says. “You are my air and my sun, Will. You are the sun in every galaxy that has ever blinked into existence, seen or unseen.”

“I know; you love me, too.” Will leans forward to take Hannibal’s face in his hands and press a kiss to his lips. “Now, let’s rinse off. You look like a meringue.”

He gets up and reaches for one of the lush blue towels hanging from the rack, but Hannibal makes a sound.

“Let’s air-dry on the porch,” he says.

Will raises his brows. “Outside? For the entire world to see? You exhibitionist!”

Hannibal rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “There’s not another human being for miles. Surely you don’t begrudge the squirrels and birds the sight of your nude body.”

“There might be a shepherd out there,” Will reminds him.

“I’m certain it would be the treat of his life then,” Hannibal says.

Will shrugs and leaves the towel where it is. “All right, but if we get arrested for indecent exposure, I’m going to tell Jack Crawford everything’s been your fault.”

“I’m willing to risk it,” Hannibal says, and leads him by the hand to the porch that goes most of the way around the little cabin.

The sun’s not far from setting, and the light turns everything in the valley from silvery green to a drowsy purple tinged with fiery orange. The breeze is rolling in, wicking the water off his skin and prickling it with goosebumps.

“Are you too cold?” Hannibal asks.

“Don’t worry,” Will tells him. He casts one more look around to make sure the cabin is, indeed, as secluded as the website promised. “I can think of a way to warm up.”

He nudges Hannibal backwards against the porch railing and gets down on his knees in front of him.

“Now, hold on to something,” he says with an upward glance. “I don’t want you tumbling backwards off this thing in the throes of ecstasy.”

“You must think _very_ highly of your abili—”

The rest of whatever Hannibal was about to say ends in a gasp as Will takes him into his mouth with a messy, wet slurp right down to the base. As he sucks lazily to the tip and back again, he slides his hands up Hannibal’s thighs. The muscles jump as his touch, as if a small spark of electricity had passed through them. Will feels inordinately pleased with himself, knowing he and he alone has this effect on Hannibal. This man who is utterly in control of his own body and every reaction in it lets go for only one person in all the world.

Will tastes the fundamental flavor of Hannibal’s skin that their quick soak in lavender-scented water couldn’t wash away. He takes the free edge of the silky foreskin between his lips and worries at it with his tongue, kissing into it as he would Hannibal’s mouth.

He feels Hannibal’s hands in his hair, and—fair enough, he did tell him to hold onto something—first at his temples and then cupping the back of his head. He’s not held so tightly that he can’t move, though, and takes his time licking every considerable inch he’s been given. He can tell that Hannibal is close, so close, by the way his breathing comes ragged and uneven.

Will moves one hand from Hannibal’s thigh, sliding around behind him to the soft curve of his ass and down the cleft to spread him open just a bit. With his fingers dry, he doesn’t push inside, but rubs light as a feather over the hot ring of muscle.

Hannibal gasps, jerks his hips forward, and spills in Will’s mouth.

Will sucks him through every spasm, drinks every drop until the roof of his mouth is slick with the taste of him. Feeling terribly pleased as he always does when he’s brought Hannibal to such delicious heights, he lets himself be pulled up to his feet and into a slow, lingering kiss.

When it’s over, Hannibal nuzzles against his ear. “How would you like me to return the favor?”

“Dealer’s choice,” Will says.

“Then turn around,” Hannibal whispers. “Bend over a little.”

“Ooh,” Will whispers back.

He does as he’s been told, bracing himself against the railing. He knows he’s going to be back on his knees by the end of it, just going by every other time he’s had Hannibal’s talented tongue inside him.

A flicker of motion in the valley beyond their cabin catches his eye.

“What’s that?”

Hannibal, his face already between Will’s cheeks, makes slurred sound that isn’t quite a word.

“H-Hold up a s-second,” Will says, struggling for speech already. “I-I can’t focus when you’re doing that.”

Hannibal joins him at the railing and peers out over the valley. A blurry gray shape is moving towards them at speed. “Is it a small sheep?” he asks.

Will squints in the dwindling light. Four paws come into view along with a black nose and speck of pink tongue.

“It’s a dog,” Will says. “Hannibal, it’s probably that dog we heard!”

“Certainly just making its way home,” Hannibal says. “No need to interrupt our evening.”

But Will is already vaulting over the porch railing and jogging towards the dog, even as he thinks to himself that perhaps meeting a dog for the first time buck naked isn’t a great idea. What if the dog is hungry? What if the dog mistakes his genitals for a tasty sausage? He covers himself with his hands and forges onward towards the dog.

The dog slows to a cautious saunter as it nears Will. The poor thing is a mess, and definitely not a herding dog.. His woolly hair is overgrown and littered with dried leaves and bits of twigs. There’s a collar around its neck, but it’s barely visible amid all the hair. Will suspects the dog might be white deep down, but dirt and neglect have made it as dark as soot.

Will drops into a crouch, making himself smaller. He gives the dog a loose, easy smile and holds out one hand.

The dog sniffs his fingers, looks up into his eyes, then seems all at once to decide they can be friends. It rolls onto its back and wriggles so vigorously its whole body is set into motion.

Will feels around in its matted fur. “Well, you’re a boy it seems!”

The dog’s tail thumps the pebbly ground.

There’s a tag on the collar bearing his name, and what looks like an American phone number. The metal is oxidized from being out in the elements for who knows how long, partially obscuring the digits. It’ll need a scrubbing with steel wool.

“Will?” Hannibal calls from the porch.

Will scoops the dog into his arms and carries him to the cabin. “I think he’s going to stay with us for a few days,” he says. “Hannibal, meet Fluffbutt!”

Hannibal looks as nonplussed as Will has ever seen him.

* * *

Will spends the rest of the night snipping off clumps of matted hair the size of baseballs, getting down to what is indeed a white coat. Well, mostly white. There are also sporadic black hairs, one or two at a time, sprinkled throughout and rougher than the rest of the coat. The hair around his muzzle is coarser, too, and still a bit gray after a first washing. Fluffbutt is just an oddly put-together dog, even accounting for the hatchet job Will makes of the impromptu grooming. His legs are somewhat short for his body, as is his tail, although it does not appear to have been docked. One large, triangular ear sticks straight up from his boxy head while the other flops amiably to one side.

The dog is young, perhaps fourteen months old, and skinny as hell. He doesn’t weigh more than thirty pounds and should be closer to fifty, judging by his frame.

Rinsing Fluffbutt off after his second bath, Will is struck by a feeling of fondness and nostalgia. “Reminds me of picking up all my strays,” he says to Hannibal, who has been dutifully gathering up balls of hair and depositing them in the trash. “I just realized how long it’s been since I’ve even petted a dog.”

“Shall I call the number on his tag?” Hannibal asks.

“In the morning,” Will decides. “He can be ours for a night, can’t he?”

Hannibal bends down to kiss the top of his head. “Of course.”

The morning comes and goes. As does the next, and the one after that, too. Will keeps finding excuses to keep Hannibal from calling Fluffbutt’s number. He even tries to convince himself that someone dumped the dog in the valley, far from town, where nobody would likely find him. But he knows somebody somewhere must love this dog. You don’t name a dog something as silly as Fluffbutt if you don’t love them. And why come all the way from the States to abandon a dog?

“You’re getting attached,” Hannibal says over breakfast on the fourth morning. Fluffbutt is curled up under the table, sleeping off a plate of eggs and potatoes. He’s already starting to put on a little much-needed weight.

“I was attached the day I found him,” Will says.

“If we’re discovered, we may need to move quickly,” Hannibal says. “That’s significantly complicated with a dog like this.”

Will rubs the top of Fluffbutt’s head with his foot. “You don’t need to talk me into not keeping him, Hannibal. I know we can’t.”

Hannibal just gives him a look of patience tinged with worry.

“We’ll call them tonight,” Will says. “It’s a California number. If his people are there, they’re probably still in bed right now.”

Before Hannibal can say anything, Will gets up and takes Flufbutt for a walk by the river.

The dog lopes along beside him, tongue lolling and tail held high. He peers up at Will with a smile, squinting in the sun, as happy as any dog that Will has ever seen.

“You want to stay with us, don’t you?” Will asks.

The dog makes a chuffing sound and smiles even wider.

They sit together on the little pier that juts into the river and Will pulls out his phone. If nobody is looking for them, it means they won’t have to move suddenly. It means they might be able to keep Fluffbutt a little longer. And maybe come up with a new name all three of them will like.

Will checks every news site he can think of—even the Tattle Crime subscriber forum. Has the old man in Havana who saw them reported them to the police? Is Jack Crawford and half the FBI getting ready to pounce on them?

He finds nothing.

There’s lingering chatter about Hannibal’s escape and Will’s presumed death, but there’s nothing new. If the old man talked, either nobody believed him or they didn’t care.

“Looking good so far,” Will says.

Fluffbutt wags his tail.

Will is about to put the phone back in his pocket when he decides to look up the number on the dog’s tag.

“If your people aren’t looking for you,” Will says, “then we’re telling Hannibal not to call them.”

A few taps later and he’s found the Wittner family in Santa Rosa. Robert and Terry and their twin girls, to be precise. Will’s heart sinks when he opens their joint Facebook page. It’s worst possible thing he could have imagined.

“Well, damn,” he sighs. “I guess now we know for sure.”

* * *

Hannibal is cleaning up from their morning meal when Will makes his way back to the cabin with Fluffbutt.

“I called.”

Hannibal looks up from the sink. “Pardon?”

“I called the dog’s family,” Will says. “They spent the summer about fifty miles from here and he got loose one night during a storm. They stayed in the country an extra month looking for him before their little girls had to get back to school. Their whole Facebook page is full of pictures of him. The husband was crying so hard when I told him I’d found their dog, I could hardly understand him. He said the dog is basically their third child.”

Hannibal dries his hands and comes over to gather Will into his arms. “I know you wanted to keep him.”

“I didn’t realize how much I’d missed having a dog,” he says. “Fluffbutt is his _middle_ name, by the way. His full name is Kentucky 'Fluffbutt’ Wittner. The kids named him. His mother was a Great Pyrenees and his father was an ambitious cairn terrier.”

“ _Quite_ ambitious,” Hannibal agrees.

Will tilts his face up for a kiss and gets one. “I’m meeting the husband at the airport in two days. Help me come up with a believable disguise before then.”

The dog gives a happy howl like he knows he’s finally going home.

* * *

Two days and a few hours later, Will is in a taxi on his way back from the airport. He feels somewhat ridiculous in his newly dishwater-blond hair, flip-down sunglasses, floral polo shirt and cargo pants, but he looks like any nondescript tourist on holiday. Nobody will remember what he looks like, not even Robert Wittner, who thanked him many dozens of times when Will handed Fluffbutt’s leash over to him.

Hannibal is waiting in one of the deck chairs on the porch when Will gets home. He has two tumblers of whiskey waiting as well as a tray of one of Will’s favorite comfort foods:

Will laughs a little and sits in Hannibal’s lap instead of taking to his own deck chair. “I can’t believe you fried bologna sandwiches for me.” He picks up one of the halves cut into a tidy triangle and stuffs most of it into his mouth. “Mm. It’s not even fancy bologna.”

Hannibal wraps his arms around Will’s middle. “You know I’d do anything to make you happy.”

“Anything?” Will asks, chomping down the last of the sandwich.

“Anything in the entire universe,” Hannibal swears.

“Then take me to bed,” Will says. “Make me forget the day I’ve had.”

He’s yet to find any sexual position or erotic act with Hannibal that he doesn’t enjoy to the point of seeing stars. but his favorite is possibly the simplest, and this is what Hannibal gives him tonight.

It’s nothing more than sprawling out on his back while the weight of Hannibal’s body meets his own, skin pressed to skin so close they could become one as Hannibal slowly rocks into him. There are breathy little kisses all over his face and his own name whispered into his mouth as Hannibal comes inside him. He keeps moving through his release, cradling Will’s head in his hands to keep it from bumping the wall behind them. There’s a slight change in angle and suddenly Will is seeing those stars again. He comes the first time from having Hannibal inside him, and the next when Hannibal reaches between their interwoven bodies to stroke him off.

They fall asleep in a sticky jumble with the breeze drifting through the windows to cool their bodies.

* * *

It’s still night when he feels Hannibal kiss him just behind the ear.

“I love you, Will.”

Will, mostly asleep, whispers back, “ _I love you, too, Fluffbutt._ ”

He realizes what he’s said before it’s even completely out of his mouth, but it’s too late. His eyes snap open and he rolls over to check Hannibal’s reaction.

But Hannibal is already getting out of bed and crossing the room away from him. In the dark, Will can’t read his expression.

“I was dreaming about the dog,” Will starts to explain.

Hannibal ignores him and finds his cellphone. The light from the screen illuminates his face; he doesn’t look happy.

“Wait—who are you calling?”

Hannibal holds up a finger. “Yes, hello, this is Mr. Samuelson who rented the Cordoba cabin from your agency,” he says, using his latest alias. “I realize the lateness of the hour, but I would like you to find us a more permanent residence. Long rental is fine, but at least six months. Yes, in Argentina is fine. Somewhere secluded but with modern amenities and security. Email me a list of properties in the morning, if you would. Oh and—one more thing? Wherever we live _must_ allow a dog. That is non-negotiable, I’m afraid.”

Will’s jaw is hanging open by the time Hannibal ends the call. “I…” He’s not even sure what to say.

Hannibal gets back into bed. “I apologize for not realizing how much you missed having dogs,” he says.

Will laughs and shakes his head. “Apologize? Hannibal, I didn’t even realize it _myself_ until a few days ago!” He remembers something Hannibal said to him. “What about not being able to move easily with a dog on our hands?”

“My concern was with traveling with a larger dog,” Hannibal says. He mimes a scooping/swooping motion with both hands. “We might have to pick him or her up if we’re forced to leave very suddenly, so we should adopt a smaller—”

Will tackles him with a kiss. Then four more kisses before pulling back just enough to enjoy the dazed expression on Hannibal’s face.

“The promise of a dog _and_ you made me a fried bologna sandwich,” Will says. “All in one day!”

Hannibal lies down again and pulls Will down on top of him. “The fried bologna might be a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.”

“And the dog?” Will asks.

Hannibal seeks out his hand and presses a kiss to his palm. “We’ll see.”

 

...

(the end… for now)

**Author's Note:**

> This is for shukkhy over on Tumblr who wanted more of the Hannibal & Will story after they left Cuba in the previous story, as well as a dog named Fluffbutt.
> 
> I really appreciate reader comments and I'm sorry that I don't always reply to them! Sometimes I just don't know what to say or I get distracted and forget to do it because that's how my brain works. But I absolutely read all of them and they really are the fuel that keeps me writing more!


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